


Kama-Spook-Tra: Mature

by dot11



Series: Kama-Spook-Tra [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crack, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunted House, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Possession, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dot11/pseuds/dot11
Summary: During their first year in the field, FitzSimmons are called in to investigate a “haunted house” on Halloween. Neither believe it is actually haunted until the spirits of the previous elderly owners need their help to fulfill their last request before moving on. How were the two friends to know that the sweet couple had a particularly intimate last request? Each version of the Kama-Spook-Tra series is the same story, but for different audiences! This version is rated M for Mature, which means more detailed descriptions of sexual content.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
>   

“Relax, Fitz. You and I both know that it's just an old house,” Simmons tutted, tapping at her trifold tablet to direct the D.W.A.R.F.s around the dusty old living room. 

“Yeah, an old  _ creepy  _ house,” he insisted, frowning over his shoulder at her. “Why did Coulson have to send us to an actual haunted house on Halloween of all nights?”

They both stood in the middle of the dark room filled with overstuffed sofa-chairs and antique tables, all covered in plastic sheets. It had clearly been a long time since anyone had been here, and it looked like no one had bothered to claim any of the possessions. The house was due to be condemned soon, but the number of complaints coming from the neighbours warranted at least a quick investigation in case something more was going on. Fitz and Simmons had been volunteered for the job, much to Fitz’s apparent dismay.

“Don't start spouting nonsense now,” Jemma quipped. “It's not like you actually believe there are ghosts here, do you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he didn’t notice the hint of worry edging her voice.

“‘Course not. Ghosts aren't real.” Fitz smirked, shrugging. 

Jemma nodded too, satisfied. “Exactly. In all probability, it’s merely some trick that's got the locals spooked.”

The lights flickered off momentarily, and in a fit of alarm, Simmons reached down to grab Fitz’s hand, pulling it up close to her chest without thinking.  He stiffened, not being the least bit comforting, until the lights flickered on again a moment later. They both blinked and looked at each other with wide eyes and a rush of heat until Jemma came to her senses. She dropped his hand with a quick apology.

Fitz frowned  when she stepped away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Y’know, I would have felt more comfortable if one of the others could have come with us,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps May. Someone trained in defense.”

“What would we possibly need defending over? It’s just a silly old house,” Simmons huffed, feeling her bravado edge its way back into her system. “ _ You're _ being paranoid, Fitz.”

“Am not! It's common sense, Simmons,” he snapped, wandering over to the other side of the room and kicking at an old pile of papers. “Nine times out of ten, a supposed haunting turns out to be a prank or some nefarious scheme plotted out by an evil business owner. Who knows what we’ve stumbled into?”

“Fitz. This is not an episode of Scooby-Doo. This is merely an old house that, according to the neighbours, was owned by the same sweet elderly couple for decades.” She stepped carefully over a small pile of newspapers and tested a lamp. “In all likelihood it's just an outdated toxin in the insulation that's wreaking havoc on the air supply. If it were more dangerous than that, Coulson would have sent the rest of the team in,” she pointed out. “And it's not like May isn't just a message away if you’re really frightened.”

“Never said I was  _ afraid,  _ Simmons,” he countered. “Just being practical. None of the D.W.A.R.F.s are giving much in terms of readings, so your toxin theory probably doesn’t-” At that, both Fitz and Simmons’ tablets lit up with an alert of strange activity near the base of the stairs. Simmons stuck her nose in the air, then marched off to investigate.

She stood facing a blank wall and watched as the scanner sent packets of information to her tablet from Bashful. Unfortunately, the drone was not in sight, clearly having wandered into another room closeby. Fitz caught up behind her, and she smiled smugly at him. 

“There. What did I tell you? No disenfranchised business-owners in costumes this time. Looks like Bashful has definitely found some sort of odd energy signature in this area of the house.” 

Fitz nodded, leaning over her shoulder to look at the tablet.  She suddenly felt particularly warm. She licked her lips, but  when she turned her head to speak to him, he  flinched and moved away as though he’d been shocked by something. Her eyebrows snapped together, and she was just about to ask if he was okay, when he cut her off.

“Where is Bashful anyways?” Fitz clenched his jaw,  shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Let's just grab a sample o   
|f whatever it is and take it back to the lab so we can get out of here.”

She examined his face carefully, attempting to discern what had set off his strange mood.  She noticed beads of sweat forming at his hairline, and she had to stop herself, oddly tempted to brush them away. She pursed her lips.  “Yes, that’s a good idea. With any luck we can clear this whole thing up and be done in time for the costume party back on the bus later.”

Fitz screwed up his face, looking pained. “Right. The costume party. Almost forgot. Y’know, I think everyone else only agreed to it to get you to stop pestering them.”

She gaped at him. “Don't say that, Fitz! I’ve worked so hard on my costume!” Fitz shrugged, turning away from her down a hallway \- the slight flick of his eyes up and down her did not escape her notice.  Simmons frowned and followed close behind. “And how could you have forgotten about it? We’ve been planning this for over a week!”  She nearly bumping into his back when he stopped.

Fitz opened his mouth wide like he was going to say something, then clearly thought better of it and tried again. “Dunno. Guess I’ve had other things on my mind.” Jemma stood her ground and tapped her foot, waiting for him to give her a better response than that. He rolled his eyes then ducked his head into his tablet. “You don't find it odd that Coulson insisted we investigate this clearly low-level call specifically on Halloween night? They’re trying to keep you distracted from that party.”

Simmons dropped her jaw, realizing for the first time that perhaps he was correct. None of the others seemed nearly as enthused about it as she had hoped. But she and Fiz always had fun on Halloween, and she didn’t want their foray into the field to change that for them. He didn’t say it often, but she knew he was having a difficult time adjusting. 

“Well, no matter,” she shrugged. “We’ll get this done quick enough. We all could do with a bit of fun, I think. Even if we have to force it down the others’ throats!” She jabbed forcefully at her tablet, not fully registering Bashful’s latest scan. 

“I suppose,” Fitz muttered. She could sense him looking over at her, and she remained still, that sudden heat washing through her again . “I  _ do  _ have a whole stash of Irn-Bru Bars that mum just sent over,” he said wistfully. “It's the one time of year I can gorge on them, so it’d be nice to get back for that at least.” He let out a soft chuckle, turning his twinkling eyes on her, and her breath suddenly caught in her throat.  “Skye’s probably already found where I've hidden the box. We’ll need to get back before she eats ‘em all on me!” 

And all at once, a wave of understanding went through Jemma’s mind, accompanied by a strangely bitter feeling. “This isn’t still about Skye is it?” His smile immediately began to fade. “You know she’s decided to stay,  so you may still have a chance there. Her bunk  _ is  _ right next to yours.” She laughed bitterly.

Fitz froze and dropped his mouth open. “I don’t- I never-!”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Fitz, you’re so  _ transparent  _ when you have feelings for someone.”

“That’s not true!” He continued to gape at her.  “Skye is the furthest thing from my mind! I would never -”

“I’m sure,” Jemma clicked her tongue. “Just be careful. She  _ is  _ part of the team,  and the walls of the bus are particularly thin.”

“Can we  _ please _ stop talking about this?” He begged, scraping a hand across his mortified face. “I just want to get out of this ridiculous house and get back to my candy, okay?” 

Fitz turned his back to her, yet Jemma was  feeling oddly lighter despite his obvious irritation.

“Fine,” she said brightly. “But we’ll need to collect that sample first before we head back. Fitz, you go check that other room while I investigate through here to see where Bashful’s gotten to.” She gestured down the hallway to the right.

“Now hold on,” Fitz stopped in his tracks. “Why are we splitting up? That’s always the first mistake in the films, you know.”

She glared at him,  but nearly stopped herself. She  _ would  _ prefer sticking close to him… Simmons shook her head, logic prevailing against whatever odd fancy had nearly derailed her senses.  “The longer we stick together, the longer we stay in this house alone. Is that what you want?” 

Fitz grumbled incoherently,  and she felt a pang of regret as she watched him wander off to the other room with his flashlight on high alert. 

* * *

Fitz was doing everything in his power to keep his mind occupied on the task at hand: find Bashful, get a sample, head back to the bus. Easy. No need for any bells and whistles. No need for any awkward or extended conversations with  his partner in this particularly warm old house . He’d be able to get back in time for a healthy gorging of his favourite candy and hopefully drift off into a dreamless sleep.  _ Dreamless  _ was the key here. 

Fitz stepped through the ornate and cobwebbed doorway, but instead of walking into the study as he expected, he suddenly found himself in another room entirely. The walls were a deep burgundy, and there were flickering candles all around. A large, draped bed stood in the centre of the room. The whole thing was oddly familiar…

Like a punch to the stomach, he realized exactly where he had seen this room before, and, frankly, he was surprised it had taken him so long. Last night, Fitz’s dreams had  _ not _ been dreamless. For whatever reason, his brain had chosen to jumble up all of his and Simmons’ talk of Halloween and costumes, and it had spat out an altogether ridiculous scenario: In a room exactly like this one, he and Simmons had  engaged in their own private costume party - the kind where the costumes revealed more skin than anything and were very easily removable.

Fitz had awoken with a  very distracting situation under his pyjama pants that he’d been unable to get back to sleep without dealing with. He was doing everything he could all day to put the  searing images  from his mind.  Her accidental grope earlier really did not help matters. And here he was now, standing in the very setting of his dream, with Simmons just down the hall!  This was either a cruel prank, or the cosmos were very much against him. 

“Fi-itz…” Simmons was calling for him. He shook his head , knowing the sultry purr in her voice was all in his very uncooperative imagination. But then he did a double-take. It almost sounded as though she was calling from  _ within  _ the room - from behind the heavy drapes of the bed. 

“Simmons?” he replied nervously, and moved forward with a gulp. “N-no pranking, please. We’re adults now, so-” He paused as soon as he had taken his first step, and gawked up at the bed.

“Fitz… come here...” Simmons had pulled back the drapes of the bed and  was lying on her stomach in nothing but a lacy negligee and a witch’s hat, her chest pushed up practically under her chin. “How can we pick our costumes if we don’t try them out?” she said in a distinctly sultry voice.  “Come help me try mine out.”

Fitz swallowed and found himself moving towards her. “Right. We should…” She lifted  her pointer finger to her lips and sucked, rolling onto her back and stretching out towards him . He swallowed hard , but just as he was reaching out for her, he stumbled forward on an old box and went tumbling to the floor. 

“Goddamnit!” He cursed loudly. 

“Fitz?” Simmons called out. 

When he straightened himself back up and dusted his knees, the sight greeting him sent a shiver down his spine. Gone were the candles and the burgundy walls and the ornate four-poster bed. In their place was the usual old, dusty room and plastic-covered furniture. The bed did not look inviting, there were no candles and definitely no Simmons.

“Fitz! Can you hear me?”  She called again, this time from behind. Her tone was now far less sultry, more on the irritated side. Fitz shook his head and took a sharp breath to collect himself.

“Yeah, j-just a minute,” he squeaked.

“What are you doing? I want to show you something!”

“Right- Ah, where are you?”

Fitz sped back through the doorway as quickly as he could, desperate to get away from that strange room and… whatever it was that had just happened. They definitely needed to grab a proper sample and get out of this old house as soon as possible before there were any other strange occurrences.

Jemma heard the creak of Fitz’s footsteps on the stairs before she saw him coming, and decided to have a bit of fun. Crouching behind the bookshelves, she waited patiently for the precise moment and then - “Fitz!” she yelled, leaping out at him. 

“AH!” He whirled around with a loud shout just as she was rushing into him, and they both fell to the floor in a heap of limbs. She ended up sprawled on top of him, his panicked expression inches from her face. 

They were frozen in place like that for a moment until a  laugh burst from her lips . “I’m sorry!” She covered her mouth, trying to keep a straight face when she saw how upset he was by her little prank. “I just-” she bit her lip  and pulled herself off of him.  “I found this little nook behind the bookshelf and wanted you to see it!” She paused and centered herself,  offering a hand out to help him up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled,  scrambling up on his own and angling away from her, his hands in his pockets.  “If you must know, there’s definitely something strange going on. A hallucinogen of some sort must be in play because-” he stopped short. 

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Because? Did you see something?”

He opened his mouth, apparently unsure sure how to proceed. She smiled encouragingly, coaxing him to go on, but he just stood there, mouth hanging open like a fish. “N- I ju- There was a- No. No, nothing strange.” She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. He shook his head, then grinned innocently. “What did  _ you  _ find?” 

She waited a moment. Was it worth pursuing this line of questioning, or should it wait until after she showed him her own discovery? At the almost pleading look on his pale face, she opted to let this slide for the time being. “Alright,” she conceded, then rubbed her hands together in excitement. “Prepare yourself, Fitz… and stand just here!” 

Jemma motioned for him to stand close on the circle of differently-coloured flooring, but he gave her a wary expression. She shot him an exasperated look. “Relax, Fitz, I won’t bite! Come in close.”

He stepped forward cautiously, and she grabbed his hand to pull him in closer. Snatching it away quickly, he kept his expression neutral as she furrowed her eyebrows at him. Exhaling, she  pulled one of the lighting fixtures on the shelf. With a lurch and a groan, the floor began to rotate, and  he moved in closer as they both slowly spun around into the secret room she had found. 

Fitz let out a low gasp. Bashful was still busy scanning away at the walls like she’d found him. The room was dark and musty, and there wasn’t much in there. Visible in the low light was an old suit and top hat, perched onto a wooden chair next to a small side table. She would have to remember later to theorize with Fitz how the small drone had even got into the room on his own, but first, she wanted to show him the  _ really  _ interesting item she’d found.

Jemma stepped forward and picked up the old book that lay innocently on the table. “Looks like it’s an old diary,” she said, lifting the cover with a gentle creak. 

“Must’ve belonged to the old owners. I’m getting the feeling they were a bit eccentric.” Fitz peered around the small room, attempting to bat away at the large cobwebs near their heads. “How did you say they passed away again?”

Simmons looked up at him with an expression that said she knew what he was getting at. “According to the reports, it wasn’t anything suspicious, before you let your imagination run away with you again, Fitz.” She rolled her eyes. “The owner, Frank Mort, passed away first of a stroke, and his wife Effie went soon after of congenital heart failure. Both peacefully, at home. No unfinished business, no regrets, and a loving family left behind.”

He narrowed his eyes skeptically. “And no one else was murdered here? No other secrets? I mean, they did have a secret room, so…”

“Just stop it,” she groaned. “There’s no reason to even consider them as ghosts! Even humoring your ridiculous theory for a moment, what would a happy elderly couple even need to stick around for anyways?”

Fitz huffed and plucked the book from her. “Dunno, but I bet this would tell us.” He began flipping through the pages defiantly. “Here. October 6th. ‘ _ Frank and I had a fight today over who should do the washing up after dinner. One of these days I’m going to snap and just murder that man!’ _ ” Fitz looked up and gave her a very knowing look, but she just rolled her eyes and shifted behind him.  Finding his heat intoxicating and stopping herself from rubbing her hands over his shoulders, she peered over them instead.  Simmons pointed at the pages in his hands. 

“But keep reading…” She reached out and held the book with him, letting her hands resting behind  his warm ones. To her disappointment, he flinched away to let her have the book to herself. He really was being particularly touchy today. 

“ _Luckily,”_ she read, _“Frank and I have always had our policy of not going to sleep angry. And while I can’t promise we didn’t go to_ bed _angry, Frank and I certainly know how to let off our steam between those sheets._ ”

Fitz gulped audibly beside her. “Err, well. You don’t suppose that means they-”

Simmons bit her lip. “Very probably. They were a married couple, Fitz. I’m sure they mastered the art of makeup sex.” Fitz nodded, but remained uncomfortably silent, shoving his hands in his pockets as she read on. “And all other kinds too, by the looks of it,” Jemma breathed. “These entries are just full of sordid exploits! It all reads like some sort of dirty romance novel.” She raised her eyebrows into her hairline. “I can see why they kept  _ this  _ hidden from their family. It’s like their own private Kama Sutra!”

“The Kama - what?”

“Oh, Fitz.” Her expression softened. 

“Well-” he put his hands on his hips, “what’s the last entry? Maybe that’ll give us a clue about what’s going on here.” 

Simmons shrugged and flipped to the last page, glancing up at him. “ _ Frank has been gone for three months and I miss him every day, _ ” she read quietly. “ _ And I find I’m angry at him more than anything. How dare he leave me alone like this? It’s agonizing. There’s only one thing that ever helped us move past our anger, and I can’t do that without him. If I had one wish, it would be that I could make love to my husband one last time. _ ”

Fitz and Simmons were both silent for a moment, and then Fitz cleared his throat. “Well. That’s almost romantic. In a way…” 

Suddenly, the tablet Simmons had placed on the table started lighting up with a number of readings and Bashful whizzed across the room to hover near the book. 

“Goodness, it’s getting hot!” Simmons exclaimed, gripping the edges of the cover  as a shiver went down her spine . 

“Jemma, you should put that down…”

“I know, but I can’t, Fitz,” she said breathlessly,  her knees turning to water . “For some reason, I can’t let- Oh! Oh…” She gasped, her breaths growing heavy. 

Fitz tried to move towards her, concerned, but she shot him a look that told him to keep away. She shut her eyes tight and stepped back, leaning against the wall, using it to hold herself up.  Her flesh tingled and  she let out a low groan, twisting her head away from Fitz so she couldn’t see him watching her like that.

Her knees  buckled , and it was like a thousand bolts of electricity were going off in her mind.  She couldn’t stop the surges of pleasure that were coursing through her body. What’s more, she didn’t want it to stop.  She bit her lip to hold back the next groan that threatened to escape her lips, and her breath hitched. Heat curled down her spine, spreading through her, her skin begging to be touched.

That’s when she felt Fitz’s concerned hand on her shoulder, and she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She tilted her head, and pressed herself closer to the wall,  her body starting to rock back and forth, low moans escaping from her lips. She gripped the book in one hand, bringing it up against the wall, biting at the corner of the pages, trying to gain control or lose control - she wasn’t entirely sure which. She was sure Fitz must be alarmed, and she should probably be concerned herself,  but she was far too distracted by the toe-curling orgasm she was having in front of her best friend .

When she let out one final  guttural  wail, he reached around and grabbed the book off of her, throwing it to the floor. At that precise moment, Bashful let out a pitiful bleep and fell from the air, out of power - as did the rest of their flashlights and equipment, all dead. 

“...Simmons?” Fitz asked nervously from the other side of the room.  “Did you just..?”

She rolled her head against the wall to face him in the darkness,  still panting. She cleared her throat, collecting herself. “S-sorry,” she shut her eyes. “Not sure what came over me. Definitely need to take a sample of that journal back to the lab.”

Fitz said nothing, but tried to let their predicament sink in for her a bit. “I’m sure we can once the power comes back on, Simmons, but…”

“Right.”  They stood in the dark, not even Bashful emitting any light. “Do you think it was an EMP?” she asked, but Fitz didn’t respond. “Well, we should probably find some candles while we wait.”

“You sure you’re okay? We should go back and get the others to be sure. Clearly something funny is going-”

“Don’t be silly, Fitz,” she cut him off. “Once we get that sample, I’m sure it’ll just indicate an air… toxin… or something.” Her head felt rather fuzzy, like a part of her brain had gone numb. Shaking her head to clear it, she decided there was no need to worry Fitz. She was sure she would be back to normal in a moment, once whatever that diary had done was out of her system. “Let’s look around a bit more until Bashful can collect that sample, yeah?” She tilted her head, taunting him. “Or are you getting frightened again?”

Fitz snorted grumpily. “You sure you’re alright Simmons? I mean you did just-”

“I’m fine, Fitz!” she said quickly. “Let’s just do what we can until we can get out of here. You go check on Bashful and the others, I’ll get the candles.” 

“Fine then,” he said, gruffly, and reached for the light fixture. “How does this thing work?”

She found herself standing still, not moving to help him so they could get out of the small confined space like she knew she should.

“What now?” he asked, losing patience in his worry.

“Actually I-I think you were right before,” she said inexplicably. “We shouldn’t split up…”

“Alright...” he waited, but she offered no other explanation. “We’ll  _ both  _ find the candles, then try to fix the dwarfs together. Better?” 

“Much!” Simmons said brightly. And she did feel suddenly better. Her head was no longer fuzzy, as she’d expected. Whatever it was must have worn off, and she felt better than she had in ages, all things considered. “I think I saw some candles in one of the bedrooms!” 

She stepped towards the light fixture and pulled him  flush against her - so they would fit through the door of course.  He let out a surprised whimper, and her stomach fluttered.  She was in such an inexplicably good mood all of a sudden that she hardly noticed what she was saying. “Oh! And Fitz, bring that hat…”

“What?” He squeaked.

“You can use it for your costume!”

“I hardly think…” but she spun around and grabbed it quickly, pulling the light fixture to get them back through the door before he could argue any further. If they were going to be stuck here for a little bit, they might as well make the most of it. 

* * *

As Fitz and Simmons wandered through the hallways, their eyes began to adjust to the darkness. That didn’t ease Fitz’s nerves any, though, and it clearly didn’t ease Jemma’s either. She was clutching very closely to him and constantly babbling on about nonsense. She only did that when she was particularly nervous. 

“Have you decided what you’re doing for your costume?” she asked. 

“We already discussed that, and we agreed it was going to be a surprise,” he said shortly. This was not a conversation he wanted to have at the moment, not with her holding onto him like that. Not with his dream freshly in his mind and whatever had just happened with Simmons and that diary. Strange things were definitely afoot in this house.

“Well, I can’t help but picture what you could possibly wear...” she said  in a low voice . “You’d look rather dashing as a magician, for instance.” She thrust the hat towards him again as they passed a large mirror. “Fitz?”

Fitz stopped abruptly in the hallway, screwing up his eyes. Was the light playing tricks on him? He was certain when they walked by that mirror, out of the corner of his eye - had that been another woman next to him in a  short lacy dress ? Gathering his courage, he walked back to stand in front of the mirror. Simmons went with him, still clutching his arm. 

She cocked her head at her reflection and smiled, adjusting her hair, but otherwise it was still Simmons. He narrowed his eyes at her and then the mirror, then shook his head and kept walking towards the bedroom where the candles supposedly were. They definitely needed a better light source. 

“Fitz? Magician?”

“What?” he asked. She shook the hat in his direction and he smirked. “Right. No thank you. Don’t fancy dressing up as a professional con-artist.”

She rolled her eyes, still beaming. “Well then, what about a period costume? You know dressing like Mr. Darcy is always a big hit.”

“Mr. Who?”

“From Pride and Prejudice,” she said, aghast. “Fitz, how can you not know about him? He’s every woman’s dream man!”

Fitz snorted. “Yeah, just what I fancy being for Halloween,” he snorted. “Now that’s what I call scary.” 

They had come to the room and he held his breath when they walked through the doorway. When everything still looked the same, he relaxed. Simmons let go of his arm, wandering off to the corner, and he started looking through the drawers for the candles and some matches. 

“And since when have you been into all those girly movies?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “That’s very unlike you, Simmons.”

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she practically purred. He straightened abruptly, having procured a candlestick that stood straight up in his grip. What was she talking like that for? Jemma grinned, then lit a match she had somehow found. She stepped closer to him, then brought the flame to the tip of the wick, letting it flicker and catch, never taking her eyes off him. He gulped. Finally, she brought the match back to her lips. Rounding them into a perfect o, she blew softly. The match went out, and Fitz let out a heavy breath. 

Jemma reached her hands out to him. Taking the candlestick from him, she placed it on the table, freeing his hands only momentarily before lacing her fingers through his. He looked down and gulped again. He looked down and gulped again.  He needed a drink of... something.  

“There. So we can see each other better.” 

“Right… yeah… Simmons?” 

“Fitz?”

“Hold on a moment.” He blinked rapidly, then marched out of the room again. He counted to ten, then squared his shoulders and turned back around. To his utter amazement, nothing had changed when he re-entered. The candle still flickered. Simmons was still staring hungrily at him, but now she had perched herself at the edge of the bed, having removed the dust cover. 

“Everything okay?” she asked sweetly. 

It was oddly hot in that room for such a cold night without power. “Y-yeah, fine. Everything’s- How ‘bout you? You’re doing good?”

“I’m doing excellent,” she hummed. “But there is one little thing you could help me with…” She was dangling the top hat from the tip of her finger, leaning forward in such a way that his eyes really only had one place to fall. “Fitz?” A mischievous smile spread across her face. 

“S-Simmons?” He was  _ very  _ wary of her now. What was she doing?

“Put on the hat.” It was not a suggestion. 

“Oh- Okay…” He wasn’t used to her being so demanding, but something about her tone made him obey immediately. “B-But then we’re grabbing the D.W.A.R.F.s so we can get out of here, okay?” 

She said nothing, only smiled. So he stepped over to where she was sitting, holding the hat out to him. He took a deep breath then put the hat on his head. 

“There,” he said. “Happy now? Can we g-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because next, inexplicably, Jemma did the most surprising and unfathomable thing he had experienced all evening. She stood and pressed her hot lips to his. 

It took him a moment to register what was happening. But she felt so soft and tasted so wonderful, that instead of pushing away and considering their circumstances rationally, like he probably should, Fitz wrapped his hands around her, pulling her closer. 

She moaned and nipped at his lower lip, thrusting her tongue against his. It was perhaps moving a bit faster and more intensely than he would have expected their first kiss to be. Definitely more out of the blue. But it was still all very enjoyable. Better than he ever imagined it could be, actually. Perfection! He inched closer and lifted his hand to cup her cheek. She responded enthusiastically. 

And then he was brushing his hand down her neck, and her hands were grabbing at the buttons of his shirt, and then his hand was clutching desperately, squeezing the soft, supple flesh of her breast, and he was overcome with how perfect they felt - and then he paused internally. 

Hold on. He would never move things along  _ that  _ fast. Not with Simmons. They were already rounding second base and they hadn’t even discussed their feelings! And yet, there was his hand, hungrily kneading into Jemma’s perfect plump breast. He had  _ definitely _ not told his hand to do that. 

Just as he was trying to remember something he’d read about idle hand syndrome, his mouth began kissing hotly down her neck too, and his fingers were pulling at the fabric of her shirt to free those beautiful breasts, and if he didn’t know any better, it looked as though his lips had two definite perky targets in mind. While the thought of what she tasted like had been at the edge of his mind on some very late nights, especially lately,  a far more pressing concern was flooding his thoughts at the moment: Was he even in control of his own body?

All of a sudden, he pushed away from her, holding the back of his hand in front of his mouth.

“Frank, what’s the problem?” Simmons said, her words wrapped in a southern accent that was very much not her own. 

_ Frank? Who’s Frank? I’m Fitz!  _ He thought desperately. 

“Sorry Effie,” Fitz’s lips moved on their own. “He got a bit spooked. Should have eased into him like you did.” 

_ Eased into him? You mean me? Who’s Effie? _

“What's spooked him?” Simmons said in the wrong voice again. _ Hold on… Not Effie and Frank who used to own this house?  _ he thought. 

“Wait a sec, I think he’s starting to getting the hang of it,” Fitz’s voice said, also in a southern accent. 

_ Ha! _ Fitz thought.  _ I knew it! See Simmons, they  _ are _ ghosts!  _ He paused his thoughts for a moment and frustration set in as he realized he couldn’t actually speak to Simmons right now. And then it hit him that Simmons had  _ not _ in fact just kissed him. That his body was being used as some sort of instrument to get romantic with Jemma’s body.  _ Oh God, _ Fitz thought, torn between terrified and intrigued.

“Well, they’re a couple, aren't they?” Simmons’ body asked cheerfully, reaching for Fitz again. “This should all be second nature-” She paused for a moment and cocked her head to the side. Apparently Jemma was somewhere in there too, informing this Effie woman exactly what their actual relationship status was. “… Oh, oh I see. No need to shout about it, dear!” 

Fitz shrank internally. It happened every so often. They’d been close for so long that people sometimes just assumed that they were an item. They weren’t, though. Quite the opposite. He was always watching Jemma fawn over some good looking man or other while he was quite happy occupying the rest of her time as her partner. He didn’t really expect anything to happen between them ever. Not that he didn’t want it or think about it. Or dream about it. 

“So… not a couple?” Fitz’s mouth said, disappointed.

“Sorry dear, that's our honest mistake.” Simmons’ body took a step away from Fitz, and his hands lingered in the air, not wanting to let her go. They were both clearly disappointed, and Fitz couldn’t help but feel that same longing for her touch again. “You both just act so much like a couple, we simply assumed,” Effie said through Simmons. “And we were  _ so  _ hoping that you would be able to help us out.” She pouted, and Fitz’s eyes zeroed in on that pout. He should have warned Frank to look away. It was impossible for Fitz to refuse Jemma when she had that look on her face… even if, apparently, this time it wasn’t her making it. 

_ Help you out?  _ He thought, finding himself warming to the idea despite the odd circumstances.. 

Frank chuckled and shook Fitz’s head in amusement. “Oh son, I can tell you already know what we mean.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, don't tell me you've never thought about it.” 

_ Thought about what? I don’t know what you mean!  _ he thought indignantly. A sudden image of his dream flashed in his mind, and Fitz cursed. This was definitely not the time for his private thoughts and fantasies to be used against him! 

Frank snorted again. “See? You're thinking about it right now!” Oh God. He’d said it out loud. What would Simmons think?

Effie tilted Jemma’s head delicately. “This one is still wanting some clarification. Is it okay if I call you Jemma, dear?” She pursed her lips. “Hm. Well let's see, how do we put this delicately?”

“You read her diary,” Frank spoke up, stepping towards Effie again. He was full of the very bravado and sexual confidence that Fitz had never actively possessed. “You know exactly what our last wish is...” Unable to restrain himself any longer, Frank rushed forward and kissed Effie passionately. Fitz was better prepared for it this time, but was still wary of what Simmons’ reaction would be.

Knowing he should have expected it, the women pushed him and Frank away. Effie spoke sharply. “Frank, you must hold off,” she scolded. “You know how much I want this too, but we can't move on from this existence if they don't give us permission. We’ll just have to wait for another actual couple to come along.”

“But they’re condemning the house, sweetness,” Frank murmured, reaching out to play with her hand. “This is our last chance. No one else has found the hat and the diary before, and soon they never will.” Fitz was attempting to focus all his energy on glaring internal daggers at Frank instead of marvelling at how smooth Jemma’s hand felt. “They’ll be reduced to rubble and we’ll be stuck here forever, unable to move on… trapped in this lustful state... ” He rubbed his fingers against hers, until she became  somewhat breathless. Apparently they had been unable to touch each other for a very long time. “Is that what you want?”

“Frank, be reasonable,” Effie breathed. “We’ve had a lifetime together, and these kids are still - well, they’re apparently very torn about how they feel about each other. We can't ask them to do this if they’re not ready.”

Fitz perked up at that. Torn? What was going on in Simmons’s head? What  _ did  _ she feel about him? Was she actually contemplating going through with - er - helping them out? If she wanted to, he could definitely...

“Oh, this is agony!” Frank groaned. “I forgot how difficult this part of falling in love is. Listen, Effie, he is definitely  _ all for it _ , but wants to know what she thinks.” 

_F-falling in-?_ _Excuse me! I never said I was all for it!_

“What? You  _ are  _ all for it! Trust me, lad, I know the signs.” 

_ Well not with me you don’t! _

“Kid. If you look down it's pretty obvious to everyone in the room that you’re game!” 

Fitz remained silent at that, praying Simmons hadn't heard, knowing she had. He could see her eyes wander down to agree with Frank, and he would have turned crimson and run straight from the room then if he’d been in charge of his body. “Well, Effie? What’s Jemma say?”

Fitz waited through the agonizing silence… This was absolutely making the top ten list of his most mortifying experiences ever. He hadn’t even had the chance to sort out if what he was feeling for Simmons was something worth sharing with her, and here he was, basically propositioning her and- 

“She's up for it if he is!” Effie finally chirped. 

_ What? Up for it, as in - she  _ wants  _ to? Simmons is okay with-? But  _ why _? _

Frank rolled his eyes and pulled his wife close him. “Trust me, darling, you chose the right words. He’s been up for it for a while!”  She giggled as he pushed his hips into hers to demonstrate his point. Fitz wondered if there was some way to hide from his own body.  A dainty finger pressed against his lips, though, pausing Frank before he could really delve in. 

“One caveat darling, and I think we owe them this,” she said sweetly. Fitz waited impatiently while Frank lumbered back again. “Jemma is requesting that she and Fitz here get things going. At least to start. Since this is a delicate situation, I think it’s the least we can do.”

Frank all but stamped Fitz’s foot on the ground. “But Effie, I won’t be able to do that thing you like so much then…”

She sighed, swaying towards him longingly. “I’m afraid it’s a hard line for her, dearest... and I agree.”

_ Yeah, me too! _ Fitz thought, having Simmons’ back in any way he could. 

Frank grumbled. “Fine. The kid is in agreement too. But to be clear, we’re not leaving or anything. As soon as things get going, we’re taking control again, okay Effie? We’ve waited too long for this.”

Effie paused, listening to what Simmons was saying. “Yes, sounds like we’re all in agreement!”

They both reached out their hands to shake on it, and Fitz felt control coming back to his body, though the presence of Frank was definitely still hovering within him. 

He took a deep breath and smiled with his own lips. Simmons smiled back, and he knew it was actually her. And all of a sudden it hit him what, exactly, they had just agreed to. 

* * *

Fitz looked at her with wide, terrified eyes, and Simmons wasn’t entirely certain she looked  much more confident. 

“Hi Fitz,” she said quietly. When he merely gulped in response, she tried again. “I-I suppose we’d best get undressed to start?”

“Yeah,” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Usually no clothes is preferable for - uh, y’know... ”

She ducked her head and reached for the first button of  his  shirt.  Fitz shut his eyes tightly, making her feel far more self-conscious than she had moments before. Attempting to ignore the fact that her hands were beginning to shake, she undid his next button and he lifted his hands to hers.

“Y’know we still don’t actually have to do this, Simmons. I know you’ve never really felt that way about m-”

“Fitz.” She stopped him. “We’re helping two people out with an act that is perfectly natural.”  She refocused and managed to undo his last button, revealing his undershirt.  “Honestly, it’s been so long, I can’t believe neither of us thought of this before. Could relieve some pent-up stress from joining the field. Plus you’ll finally get to use that condom you’ve got stowed in your wallet since our first year at the academy. What could possibly go wrong?”

Fitz’s jaw dropped to the floor. He looked like he was about to say something, but Jemma quickly pulled her shirt over her head, correct in assuming it would tie his tongue in knots. He watched in wide-eyed silence as she unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them to the floor as well. 

In her head, Effie was chuckling to herself. _Dear, I have never heard someone rationalize this as well as you._ _It might be harder for him to see, but you and I both know exactly how much you_ want _this too._

Jemma stood with her legs pressed together, hoping her cheeks weren’t flushing at Effie’s thought. She lifted her head and met Fitz’s eyes, instantly biting her lip. She had never expected Fitz to look at her  _ that  _ way… she had to admit, it felt  unexpectedly… arousing. 

“Now you,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Right. Me. Actually, you don’t really want to see what I’ve got under here do you? We can do this with my shirt and all still on, yeah?”

“Fitz,” she growled placing her hands on her hips, standing there in nothing but her bra and knickers.

“N- Sorry, just a suggestion. Nevermind!” He quickly pulled his  undershirt  up and over his head,  getting a little caught with his arms in the air. Jemma took that moment while he was distracted to take him all in. 

_ Damn! _ Effie said in her head. 

“Damn,” Jemma said aloud, and instantly clapped her hand over her mouth. 

“What?” Fitz said popping his head up and dropping his shirt to the floor. 

Jemma floundered for a moment. “Nothing! Just- er” she took a step toward him. “Effie is very eager to, ah, you know, move on and all.” 

“Oh.” he said, sounding both nervous and flattered. Or terrified. It was hard to tell for sure.

Not wanting to drag this all on any longer than she needed to, Jemma closed her eyes, then decided to take the plunge. She pulled him towards her in a rush of excitement , just as he had apparently decided to do the exact same thing.

“Ouch!” Their bodies bumped together with a slap of flesh, and their teeth clacked together. Fitz winced and rubbed at his lip where a small cut had formed. 

“Sorry!”

_ Oh, darling…  _ Effie said in her head.  _ Did you want us to take over? _ The woman sounded a  little too eager now. Jemma squared her shoulders. 

“No! I can do this.” It was Fitz that spoke aloud under his breath, clearly having a similar discussion with Frank. His eyebrows were furrowed in determination, and she met his eyes with a nod. He reached out and placed his warm hands against her waist. “Just hold still a moment, Jemma. Okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically and remained rooted to the spot. She looked up at him gently. His eyes were closed, and he leaned in towards her. She inched her face forward. His breath fluttered against her lips, and her heart sped up. She waited for him to come the rest of the way. 

Their first kiss was soft, delicate, something small and easily broken. Timid. Yet it endured. The heat that was stirring between them felt like it must have always been there. The kiss never broke, it simply shifted. His feather-light brushes against her lips became deeper, lingering. She pressed harder, wanting more. Becoming more frantic in her need for more of the intriguing new sensations, she brought her hands to his chin, pulling him closer, exploring as far as she could go, sliding her tongue against his.

His own hands caressed down the curves of her body, and it wasn't until she felt the chill in the air that she realized he had removed her bra. She had never been more impressed with his nimble fingers, enjoying the sensations of him deftly smoothing his hands into her sensitive skin. 

Then her hands were at his hips, playing with the loops of his jeans. She heard a growl escape her lips like a leopard that had waited too long to pounce on its prey.  And all at once, her hand was inside his jeans, groping for him, fingers brushing against him, and they both let out a gasp. His eyes shut tightly, clearly enjoying the sensations each stroke sent through him.

Encouraged, she slowly pressed a kiss into the hot skin at the nape of his throat. She glanced up and saw his eyebrows knit together with pleasure. It was a maneuver that she repeated, slowly, all the way down his chest, pressing kisses into the skin of his belly, the top of his hips, until she had to adjust her hands, eliciting a whimper as they lost contact with him.

She was kneeling now, and he had stopped breathing. Licking her lips, she looked up and their eyes met properly for the first time since this had all started. His expression mirrored exactly what she felt. He wanted this, more than anything she had ever seen him want before. But he was so scared of making a wrong move, just like her. There was so much to lose. So much to gain. So many thoughts swimming in her mind that she felt she would explode from the sheer volume of it all.

Smiling, she undid the button at the top of his jeans, and his eyes fluttered shut. She pulled down on his pants roughly. It was meant to be a sexy move, but she had given it a bit too much force, and his legs became tangled. He wobbled on the spot, finally tipping with a thump onto the nearby bed, left only in his socks.

Jemma stood straight, beginning to apologize until she heard the telltale signs of Fitz laughing. "What is so funny?" she insisted. "Clearly I didn't mean to-" and before she could say anything more, he grabbed her around the middle and had her pinned to the bed beneath him, laughing down at her.

The laughter died on her lips when she realized his were suddenly everywhere. Burning hot wet trails along her shoulder, in the crook of her arm, along the edge of her ribs, his tongue sliding deliciously up the swell of her breast, pressing into her, trying to get as much of his mouth around her as he could. And then the heel of his palm pushed between her legs, rubbing against her, and it was as if a fire was lit inside.

When his fingers curled, slipping in, she let out a gasp against his cheek. Her lips clung to him, desperately suckling any part of his face she could - kissing, licking, between moans as his fingers danced within her. 

Fitz's mouth slid south, and Jemma was caught, trapped in waves of pleasure, an electric surge at each flick of his tongue. He moved gently, and then with an increasing pressure. She grabbed at him desperately, hands tangled in his curls, trying to restrain herself from pushing his head harder between her legs. 

When she began to make animalistic noises, it only seemed to spur him on. He began a rhythmic, almost musical dance of pushing his nimble fingers into her so roughly and so sweetly that it shook the bed. Then he would flick his tongue against her until she could no longer make noise. Feeling like she was about to explode, a voice cried out.

_ " _ Oh Frank!" and Jemma paused. She had almost forgotten that this wasn't them. This wasn't Fitz moving against her, and her actions weren't her own. She had become so lost in the sensations that she couldn’t be sure when the shift had happened. They had certainly started things off, but they were no longer in control - they were merely along for the ride - no matter how fascinating and enjoyable that ride might be.

It appeared her pause had affected the rhythm they had gotten into, and Frank took full advantage of it. Wiping Fitz's mouth, he crawled up her body, then hovered above her. His eyes roved up and down until finally, they met hers.

"Frank," Effie said softly with her lips, feeling the pulse of longing between her legs at the prolonged lack of contact.

_ Fitz, _ Jemma thought, looking deep into his blue eyes, seeing her best friend staring back at her. What could he possibly be thinking, staring down at her like that? He smiled his smile, then leaned down and brushed soft kisses against her lips.

They moved together as though it's where they had always belonged. It was softer now, but no less urgent. The pulsing electricity between them grew, mingling with the creak of the bed against the floorboards and the sweat between their bodies.

Finally, knowing she wouldn't be able to take it much longer, she wrapped her legs tightly around him, clinging against him with everything she had as he pushed them both harder and harder into the mattress until even her body had no control, shaking and shuddering against him.

* * *

 

They both slowed, their bodies still entwined, him still sliding easily into her with soft, long thrusts. He kissed her slowly as her body finally relaxed back into the sheets. 

"Fitz," she murmured against his lips - and they both froze. He was still deep inside her when he lifted his head to look at her again.

"Simmons?"

"Y-yeah," she smiled. "It's me. Where's-?"

Fitz wiggled around a bit, but stopped when her eyes shut tight from the shoots of pleasure it sent through her. "Sorry - er- yeah. It's just me. And you're-?"

"No more Effie," she said firmly, then her mouth crooked into a small smile. “Looks like we helped them.”

"Yeah, I suppose we did," he said, looking down, his eyes soft. He began to lean forward again when a loud bleep emitted from the other side of the room. They both whipped their heads around to see Bashful cheerfully scanning away at their still interconnected bodies.

"Er - we should probably-" he shifted, slipping out to lie next to her, the movement making her eyes shut tight again, and her breath hitched.

Jemma grinned over at him. He rolled onto his side to face her too, still concerned for nothing but her. She scooched closer, and his hand fell tentatively on her hip. 

“Well, that was definitely better than the weird dream I had the other night,” Fitz said, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Weird dream? About… us?”

“Well, more or less what we just experienced, but all in far more graphic detail, so I hardly need to take you through the particulars again do I?”

“...Is that why you were acting so strangely earlier?”

Fitz opened his mouth, but the sound of his phone’s message alert interrupted him. They both stared at it dumbfounded for a moment.

“That’s probably the others checking in on us. You check it and I’ll see what the D.W.A.R.F.s have found.”

Fitz watched her slink out of bed and grab hold of her tablet. Standing there naked, she flashed him a quick smile in the glow of the screen. It was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. He shook his head, then pushed the voicemail button on his phone.

“Guys, seriously, how long can you geek out over an old house? May wanted me to check in on you guys, but our plan to keep you busy seems to have worked. We’ve all gone to bed, and I found a nice stash of some sort of candy under the holo-table that had no one’s name on it. See you guys in the morning or whatever. Sorry about your party.”

“Hmm… Fitz?” Simmons whispered when he hung up. “Bashful and Sneezy appear to have detected a large amount of Amyl Nitrite in the air.”

“The hallucinogen?”

“Yes…” she whispered. “There were particularly strong remnants on the hat and diary we picked up earlier…”

“Ah. Right.” He blinked. “So that explains the whole-”

“-Probably a good thing the house is getting condemned-” she said at the same time as him.

“I suppose on the positive side, it means we definitely weren’t possessed. There are still no such things as ghosts,” she said brightly. They were both silent for a long while as the entire evening played back in their minds. It hadn’t been real. Well, the ghosts hadn’t been real, even though they’d felt as real as the press of her skin against his. Finally, Jemma looked up and smiled. “So what did the message say?”

“Well,” Fitz shrugged. “We’ve officially missed the costume party. And Skye’s eaten all my candy…”

"Well” Jemma laughed. “I suppose that’s it then, only one thing left to do,” she sighed, sitting back down on the bed next to him. 

“Oh?” he asked, nervously. He exhaled, letting his eyes rove up and down her body, fairly certain this was the last time he’d see her like that outside of his dreams. Since none of it had been real, they probably wouldn’t be repeating it. “Yeah. We probably better-” 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence again, because Jemma did the second most unfathomable thing he had experienced all evening.  She pulled him close and she kissed him.Again. Then she whispered against his cheek, “I think there's still a bit more work to be done here, Fitz. If you don't mind." She smiled brightly at him. 

They both fell back in a tangle of sheets, their breaths growing heavier as they put their new skills to practice. 


End file.
